A Lethal Affair
by Aquestra
Summary: A compilation of possible 'three-year' one-shots of how the beautiful, loud-mouthed heiress and the monstrous, proud prince found their way into each other's arms. [Previous title: A Weaponized Kiss]
1. A Weaponized Kiss

**This is a compilation of B/V three-year one-shots in particular no order. Please enjoy :)**

**First attempt at a 3 years fic - Let me know what you think!**

******Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ**

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******A Weaponized Kiss**

Vegeta had been on earth exactly a year. One measly year, and yet it had felt like an eternity. This mudball planet was hell in the mortal realm and capsule corp was the seventh circle of it. Not a day went by where the prince was not harassed by either the cheery, dimwit harpy, scrutinized by the old scientist or haunted by the fact that he was _still_ nowhere near ascending.

But the worst, the absolute worst, was _her. _The insolent woman who fought tooth and nail with him over absolutely everything. He was a prince dammit and she sure as hell did not treat him like one. As the prince approached the kitchen of the compound, a low growl rumbled in the pit of Vegeta's stomach at the mere thought of interacting with that hot-headed seductress, and he hopped she would not be present. Sure, she was certainly attractive, but that made her all the more dangerous. The low rumble in his stomach escalated as it made it's way to his lungs as he sensed her ki around the corner of the tall wall. He would not let her get the best of him, she was the enemy.

Vegeta rounded the corner into the marble-countered room. There sat Bulma lazily up on the counter with a glass of wine in one hand and that ridiculous blabbing device in the other, pressed to her ear.

"I'm going to tell him tonight - Urgh, gotta run Chi." She blared loudly as Vegeta completely dismissed her and walked straight to the stainless steal fridge to grab the dinner the cheery harpy would have left prepared for him. Her obnoxious, know it all voice continued it's rant in a whisper, unaware his keen saiyan ear could pick up her every word. "His royal pain in the ass is _finally_ here. I'll talk to you later."

The beep of the phone clicking off was simultaneous with the fridge slamming shut. Vegeta had ten plates of food stacked in his arms as he marched over to the giant, dark oak table in the far corner of the kitchen. The Prince could feel the woman's eyes on him, but chose to ignore her. Her did not want to engage in her childish pettiness this evening. Tonight mark a year of being here, one absolutely, completely unproductive, miserable year. And he wanted to be left alone with his misery.

"Hey Vegeta!" Came a cheery voice as he removed his battered white gloves and unwrapped the first of the plates from the plastic it was encased in. He could sense her marching across the room and plop herself down in the chair beside him, the glass of wine audibly swooshing in her hand. "How was training?"

"Hn." He said as he began digging into his first plate, not even bothering with the formality of cutlery. Vegeta was famished, and besides food always tastes better when you eat it from your hands. He also was secretly hoping his complete lack of that thing humans always insisted one using, manners, would scar the bratty woman away.

Unfortunately it didn't.

He heard a gulp from beside him and assumed she had taken another swig of that foul, sense impairing beverage. What a repulsive woman. Sure, he killed people, but she had so many vices it was hard to keep track. The woman was a complete nuisance. She was an enigma his mind constantly found it's way to trying to solve, distracting him from his ultimate goal of ascending. Which made her the enemy.

"I can't believe it's been a year." She whispered softly. At this phrase his head finally shot up from the plate of steak he had been hounding. The woman had been counting? He stared at her with his vicious onyx eyes only to be met with her blue calculating ones. She was leaning forward, chin in her hand and resting on her elbow. The position gave him a peak down her white tank top, barely allowing him to see the top of her lacy bra. Vegeta scowled. The woman had been know to use her... _appearance _against him before, and he knew exactly what that meant. The woman was plotting something. "Want a drink?"

"No." Vegeta said giving her one final cool glare before returning to his food, determine not to let her get under his skin.

"Suit yourself." Came her nonchalant reply. Her voice then became meek and shy, something absurdly unusual for the loud attention seeking whore. "Dad told me your thinking about leaving."

"So?" Vegeta snarled in between bites. He had planned on not saying anything at all, but that wretched power she had over him always drew wonders from his mouth. He hated her for it.

"Well." Her voice was still soft and tender. "Is there anything I can do to make you stay?"

Vegeta's head shot up. Why the hell did this woman always surround herself with him. She constantly wanted him around and he constant did everything to avoid her. She was everywhere, and when she physically wasn't she was in his thoughts. Vegeta could have sworn she was conducting some sort of weird, earthing witchcraft on him. They were both possessed and no matter how much they hated each other, she always wanted him near and Vegeta could never stop thinking about her.

"No," He growled menacingly. "It may have been a different story if your damn gravity chamber actually worked."

Vegeta mentally scolded himself knowing the hailstorm he had just unleashed. If there was one thing he knew to never to do unless he was prepared for war, it was to never _ever _insult the woman's work.

"EXCUSE ME?" She slammed down the wine glass and shot up so she was towering over him, spilling some of the bloody liquid onto the dark oak. "How dare you!? You think you can just waltz in here and..."

"Oh, would you shut up woman?" Vegeta groaned tilting his head back in exhaustion. All he had wanted was one peaceful day in this hell hole, with out any of them, with out _her_, interrupting. That why he had stayed in the gravity chamber until two in the morning, in hopes of avoiding all of _this_.

"DON'T YOU TELL ME TO SHUT UP." She said whacking him on the shoulder, making Vegeta noticeably wince. He had been shot by on of the bots there earlier and the wound was still fresh and bloody underneath his clean change of clothes. "I came here to tell you how I feel and -"

Vegeta was groping his shoulder, the pressure of his hand on the wound causing the blood to soak through his navy spandex and onto his bare hand. Her pathetic hit hadn't hurt too badly, but it was enough to restart the bleeding. His eyes narrowed at her and he resisted every urge inside him to just blast her away right then.

"Oh shit." She bent down in front of him and tenderly put her hand on him, making him want to destroy her even more. But then again, there was something almost soothing about it making Vegeta hate her even more for exposing a weakness in him. "Are you okay?

"I'm fine woman." He shrugged her hand off him. "Let me be."

"Awe poor Vegeta." She stood up and pouted with her hands on her hips, her perfect figure tauntingly exposed as she sassed him. She was beautiful, that was something he could not argue. Vegeta smirked as he fantasized about blasting her into oblivion, killing such a pristine creature would an amazing release. A release that would do him quite a bit of good right now. But no matter how much he tried to fight against her, he could never bring himself to hurt her. She had a strange, captivating power over him, and he hated her for it. With a wink the seductress continued in a sarcastic tone, almost mimicking those stupid baby voices the blond harpy made. "You sure you don't want me to kiss it better?"

Vegeta blinked and stared at her blankly, wondering if that was some sort of threat. "What the fuck is that?"

"Geez Vegeta, its just an expression you need to calm the fuck dow -"

"No that you idiotic woman." Her scowled up at her. "A kiss, what the hell is a goddamn kiss?"

"You're kidding right?" Her face flashed with astonishment as he slender arms dropped to her sides. "You can't be serious."

"I am perfectly serious I ensure you." He said crossing his arms over his chest, still applying pressure to his shoulder wound with one of his hands. This kiss, whatever it was, intrigued him. The way his questioned seemed to fluster her, and bring red to her cheeks clearly meant this kiss was a weakness of hers. And maybe, just maybe, it was a weapon he could use against her.

"Vegeta have you, you know..." She asked clumsily, he revelled in her nervousness. He had barely seen her like this, which meant he was winning. "...been with a woman."

"Yes." Vegeta let out a dark chuckle. A woman? Was she serious. He had lay with so many he lost track long ago. Bedding woman was one of the very few pluses that came with working in the planet trade organization. Whether it was willingly or by force, he had had plenty. Vegeta basked in the memory of the glory days, until a gruesome scowl slaughtered across his soften face in realization that they were just that: memories. It had been over a year since his last lay, and again he was reminded of how much of a hell hole earth really was. There were plenty of humans, sure, and they seemed compatible with saiyans anatomy but Kakarot had mated with one. So Vegeta had long ago resolved that he would never disgrace himself by sleeping with one of these gruesome, weak creatures Kakarot had deemed worthy. Kakarot, and anything that blasted fool did, which included humans, was beneath him.

"And you don't know what a kiss is?" She crossed her arms and her beautiful blue orbs flashed with confusion as the wicked woman interrupted his train of self-pitying thoughts.

"No." He growled bluntly.

"Space is fucked up." She mumbled lowly, clearly not wanting him to hear.

He was silent, but simply cocked an eyebrow at the impossible woman.

"Well I guess." She fell back into her chair and took a swig of her wine, but continued to glare at him with those calculating blue orbs. She settled down the glass and swirled it from the base with two fingers, studying the turing liquid and adverting her eyes from him. "It's when two people brush their lips together..."

"Why would anyone do that? Lips are for eating." Vegeta observed her for any sign of depict. The woman was manipulative and he wouldn't put it past her to invent a fake weapon just to put him behind in their battle. But their was no sign of trickery behind he crystal eyes, so he allowed her to continue.

"It's a sign of affection." The blue-haired heiress said sassily as she played with her hands in her lap, drawing Vegeta's attention to her short, denim shorts that exposed her gorgeous long legs. His mind was consumed by her again. And his hate for the woman grew.

"Humans and their stupid customs." He scoffed.

"Well." She was nervous, completely avoiding eye contact. Vegeta suppressed a smirk. This kiss would be the perfect weapon. "I mean I guess... I guess I could..."

"Spit it out woman." Vegeta said as he dangled a piece of steak into his mouth.

"I could show you." Her eyes shot up and blazed into his own. The prince studied them. They were filled with passion and lust. This kiss was not just the perfect weapon to use against her, it was the ultimate one.

"Fine." Vegeta said, putting on a cool poker face.

"I figured you'd say no -" She started, sinking back into her chair. "WHAT?"

"Do it." Vegeta said smirking at the heiress. "So me this infamous kiss."

Her face erupted into a blissful smile, one that was so happy it made Vegeta want to tear her face off. She pulled her chair in closer to his, so that their knees were barely touching. He watched as she leaned her form in, and he mimicked her until their faces were but inches away.

"You sure?" She whispered softly.

"Woman I am damn well sure -"

"You sure you'll be able to keep up?" The blue haired wench finished with a devious smirk, the conniving one Vegeta had seen way too often over the past year.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He just needed to learn this goddamn technique already so he could use it as a weapon against her. "Just get it over with before I decide to destroy you."

"Always the tough guy." She huffed, her blue eyes bearing into his dark shields playfully. "Alright, now closer your eyes."

Vegeta scowled, and as much as he hated going in blind, he reluctantly obliged his enemies request. Suddenly he felt her soft hand rest on his shoulder, and the other on the back of his neck. Her touch strangely unnerved him, and he could feel all his muscles relax. She pulled him closer until he could feel her breath right on his face, her gentle aroma engulfing him. And then slowly and torturously she brought her plump, soft lips pressing down on his own. A sensation of pure ecstasy overwhelmed him. Something he had never felt before and he began pressing back, melting into her kiss. He was losing to the earthling.

The weapon, as it turned out, was not the instrument of Bulma's defeat. It did not bring about her downfall, it brought about his own. That night he lay with her for the first time. And the next morning, in shame, regret and defeat, Prince Vegeta left for space.

Bulma had won the battle, but the war between the Heiress and the Prince would rage on for the rest of eternity.


	2. His Promise to Return

**This is a compilation of B/V three-year one-shots in particular no order. Please enjoy :)**

**If you have the time drop me a review or PM letting me know what you think, all feedback is greatly appreciated and taken into account when writing future chapters. Also if you have any suggestions/requests on which part of the three years you want a one-shot from next, let me know!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ**

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**His Promise to Return**

The blue haired heiress sat in the nook of a circular window, cuddling up to herself, holding her knees tight for comfort. She had the large pink t-shirt pulled over her knees. Bulma stroked the soft fibres gently with her shaking forefinger while she stared out at the elegantly kept garden below, trying to make out the dazzling flowers in the dim morning light. As she watched the last of the rain dribble down from beyond the glass, Bulma finally indulged herself in tears.

_He _had left in the early hours of monday morning with out so much as a trace.

Bulma clutched at the shirt and pulled her angelic face into her knees, not wanting the world to see the powerful Bulma Briefs shed tears. She prided herself of her confidence and will power, yet in this matter she could not keep it together any longer. The heiress of Capsule Coorperation had poured herself into her work for the past week, never leaving the lab and only truly stopping when exhaustion stole her from the conscious world.

But today was saturday and her father made it explicitly clear she had to take a break. Bulma hadn't intended to obey him, being the rebellious type her entire life, but when she saw concern laced in her genius father's eyes guilt flooded her. Her father had no reason to be upset because of _him _leaving. So Bulma agreed to take one day off.

Her throat hiccuped as she let out a chocked sob, trying to calm her tears down seemed to only make them attack more violently. How could _he _have just left like that? The beautiful young woman turned her head on it's side, resting her cheek on the tops of her hugged knees. Bulma stared at the rising sun and finally stopped fighting the tears. A battle she was losing anyways.

As the great golden orb pierced over the horizon a brilliant orange hue settles on West City. The city was quite, all except for the echo of birds singing their distant songs. The rain was coming to an end and the clouds were cracking apart, exposing the reddish sky beneath. She wrapped her arms tighter around her knees as her stomach became invaded with butterflies. Everything was peaceful and calm.

Bulma hated it.

The serenity was just another taunting reminder that _he _wasn't there. No one had called her out on her bullshit these past few days. No one had sought to make her life a living-hell. Bulma had gone unchallenged, and ultimately undefeated these past six days, and quite frankly she was now finding it miserably boring. She had once been used to getting everything her heart desired, but that was before _him._

And now the one thing her heart desire more than anything, was gone.

Bulma blinked her beautiful blue eyes furiously as the growing sun continued to glow fiercer. Once long ago, when she and Yamcha were ever apart, she would take comfort in the fact that no matter where they were, they were always under the same sun. But many things had changed since those days; she had learnt and seen so many things. And _he _was certainly not like Yamcha. _He _did whatever _he_ wanted.

With a sigh Bulma let the last of her tears escape, not because her sadness had melted away, but because her eyes were wept empty. She released one of her delicate hands from it's entanglement around her knees and brought it to rub her puffy eyes, effectively wiping the remainder of the tears from her face. A deep sorrow had nuzzled its way into her, and Bulma had yet to find a path to escaping it.

As the sun fully breached the horizon, and the smell of breakfast cooking seeped it's way into her runny nose, Bulma could acknowledge that it was time to face the daunting day.

The heiress unlatched her other arm and swung her legs out from the curved nook, dangling them over the floor, her toes barely brushing the tender carpet below. Her bare legs were chilled as they hung from her perch, having been covered by the oversized pink shirt. She brought her hands back to her face and wiped her tear-scared cheeks one final time. With a sniffle, and a quick smoothing of the bright pink shirt, Bulma hopped down from her retreat.

As her feet took on her weight, she almost crumbled underneath it. The sorrow and anxiety of the looming day weighing her down subconsciously. The heiress was almost convinced she couldn't do it, that she really wouldn't be able to tackle the day. Bulma almost decided to turn and run back to the comfort of her sheets and the absolute darkness of her bedroom. But her pride irked her to do otherwise.

She was Bulma Briefs, and nothing could stop her. Not even _him_.

The heiress inhaled a deep breath of air, and proceeded to march her way down the hall. She could feel the fabric sway against her petite body as she swiftly sped to the stairs. Every brush of the soft pink fabric brought her immense comfort, but also searing pain. She folded her arms defensively over her chest. It was _his _badman shirt.

Bulma bounded down the stairs and was immediately in the open concept area. A cheery tune quietly resonated from the far corner of the large space. The heiress immediately found it's familiar, comforting source, and quietly made a break for her mother in the kitchen. The cold, dark tile of the kitchen area tingled her feet as she crossed the floor to take a seat at the cherry oak table.

Bulma did not want to be alone with her depressing thoughts any longer.

"Morning hunny!" Her blonde mother said wiping around from the stove, a giant grin smothering her face.

Bulma stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, staring blankly at the over-enthusiastic, apron-clad woman. She did not response.

"You're just in time." She chirped turning back to the stove. "I've got breakfast almost done... I just need to make about thirty more pancakes and we should be just fine!"

Bulma's heart skipped several beats and all of the air in her lungs felt like it was punched out. Her blood began to boil, was her mother really joking about _him?_ Immediately though her anger simmered down, it was possible her mom was just uninformed, she was, after-all, not the brightest of the Briefs.

"Mom, you do know... that he's..." A lump balled up in Bulma's throat, restricting all sound. Her body felt like it was about to seize and her eyes filled with new tears. But she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Gone?" Bulma watched her mother say almost happily. "I know silly goose, but what if her comes back! I have to be able to feed such a nice young man."

"_He_ is not nice!" Bulma fumed, rage filling her again. "And _he _is not coming back."

"Oh." For the first time in their conversation, she seemed sad, a trait almost non-existent to her mom making Bulma almost fell guilty for having to give her the news. Bulme watched her mother closely as the elder of the beauties continued softly. "He didn't say that when I said goodbye..."

Bulma's mind vibrated with a mixture of emotions that exploded out in one simple sentence.

"YOU SAW _HIM_?"

"Awe 'course I did sweetie, I'm up early to feed you all you know." Her mother said with an adorable wink that did absolutely nothing to calm her racing heartbeat. The heiress had so many questions, so many emotions.

Bulma ran up to her mom and placed both her hands on her shoulders, lightly shaking the blonde. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tears freely flowed from her blue eyes as she wrapped her delicate arms around her mom, who was quick to reciprocate. Bulma was thankful when her mother squeezed her into a hug that only the best of mothers could master. The heiress felt a delicate hand stroking her hair. "Now, now dear. If you hadn't hidden in your lab I could have told you."

Bulma was about to rebuttal, tell her mom how something so important shouldn't have been kept secret. But she was too entranced by her mom's warm hug that no words found their way to her mouth. She just hung in her mother's arms sobbing into the shoulder of the one person who she could tell anything to. A few moments went by in silence as Bulma let her sorrows seep out into the comforting entanglement of someone else's arms.

"Oh! That reminds me hun." She chirped break, and to Bulma's disappointment, broke the hug. She watched as her mother reached down into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a small piece of folded paper. Bulma's damp eyes widened as her mom held the paper outwards towards her. "Here."

"What is it?" Bulma asked hesitantly, she stared down at her elegantly scripted name etched onto the front of the sheet. She held her breath as the handwriting rang familiar in her mind. It couldn't possibly be...

"It's from _him." _Bulma's head snapped up from the paper and met her mother's eyes with a fiery gaze. "I haven't seen you lately -"

Before her mom could finish, Bulma had snatched the paper greedily from her grasp and whipped around. She took a step away from her mom, but instead of moving forward, Bulma crumbled to her knees. She leaned her weight back and sat on her heels. The hard kitchen floor bore into her exposed shins. But Bulma didn't even feel it.

Her hands trembled as the fumbled the slip in her hand. It was certainly _his _writing. She had never seen script so elegant before, so regal. Her insides felt like they were drowning in disparity, and even _his_ pink shirt couldn't bring her any comfort now.

She stared at that one word for an eternity. Bulma. Her name. Had _he _ever even said her name before?

Tears threatened to pour, but for some reason they wouldn't flow. Bulma's throat so dry she couldn't even swallow the lump of anxiety forming in it. Bulma was scared of the tiny piece of folded paper, but at the same time, she needed to know what the note said. So slowly she looped her thumb under the fold and flipped up the small page.

Bulma's heart stopped in it's tracks and her eyes focused one the majestic script:

_Woman I have left. The measly mud-ball has proven to be too much of a pathetic distraction to my training. I must depart to achieve the ascension. Unfortunately after I reach the epitome of the saiyan race, I will be returning for an extended stay as you posses something of mine I need..._

She read the last two words over and over, just to be certain she read them correctly. Her heart skipped irregularly and her eyes fluttered involuntarily as one of her hands dropped from the note to hover over her abdomen. The last two words of Vegeta's note were plain and clear; _My__ Heir._


End file.
